Cuddling by the Campfire
by MissDoctorDonna
Summary: Ezra provides Vin with something he hasn't had in a very long time. Could be seen as pre-slash if you stand far away and squint, but it isn't intended. Rated for a couple of very mild cuss words and very vaguely implied adult themes.


**My first and possibly only Magnificent Seven fanfic. I haven't written in ages and felt a need for some manly h/c. I don't own any of the boys. I promise to return them in the same or better condition when I'm done playing.**

Ezra Standish, gambler and con man, had fallen in with a group of good Samaritans and he was uncertain as to whether he liked it or not. Most of them distrusted him and showed that lack of faith with blatant honesty. Their low opinion had been reinforced by his error in judgement at the Seminole village. Truly thinking that the altercation was resolved, he'd ridden out to check on the status of the mine. The pursuit of worldly wealth was ingrained into his very being, starting almost from birth, by his mercenary mother. It had been an innocent mistake and he'd not only returned to join the fray, but he'd rescued the ingrates from certain harm. He'd hoped that they wouldn't hold one tiny mistake, prompted by a lifetime of habit and lessons painfully learnt, against him. But no, still they held it up as confirmation of his low character. If he were to be honest with himself, which he always tried hard to be, he had to allow that they didn't know anything about his past and had only the image he projected to them as a basis for their judgements.

Despite the animosity of some of the others and many of the townsfolk, he remained in the dusty little backwater and threw his god-given talents – the very talents for which they scorned him - into the pot for the good of the table. Take this latest task for instance; a rancher had received an unsettling visitor who claimed to hold the deeds to the same property he was currently working. Chris Larabee had listened to the outraged rancher, from a darkened corner of the jailhouse, as the man had raged to Sheriff JD Dunne. When the boy seemed to be at a loss for a course of action, Larabee had quietly offered the suggestion that they send their resident con man since he'd be able to recognise someone of his own ilk.

A low moan broke the silence surrounding him, causing the gambler to divert his gaze from the flames of the campfire to his companion, who was sleeping nearby. Ezra's brow furrowed slightly as he watched the young tracker, Vin Tanner, shift restlessly and whimper almost soundlessly when he turned on his side. Rubbing his lower lip with his thumb, Ezra waited to see if Vin was going to settle or whether assistance would be needed. When no further sound or movement was forthcoming, Ezra moodily went back to the contemplation of his life.

Another muted cry of distress pulled Ezra from his sullen rumination and he focussed on the man lying opposite him. The tracker had offered to accompany him on this journey, stating a need to get out of town and into the wide open spaces for a while. Surprised, Ezra had welcomed the quiet man's company, knowing that he may be riding into a dangerous situation and valuing Vin's abilities with a gun as much as his unflappable nature. Whilst he found Vin's personal hygiene a mite questionable at times, his education to be dismal and his fashion sense to be appalling, he still liked the Texan on a fundamental basis. There was just something about the scruffy, young man that gave you a sense of ease when in his company.

Studying Vin's face in the firelight, he wondered just how old Vin was, estimating him to be around his own age. Chuckling quietly, he thought about how they were both judged to be older than their actual years. Most people put the enigmatic conman in his late twenties or early thirties, but in truth he was only twenty-four. Seeing Vin's face in sleep, Ezra was almost certain that the tracker couldn't be more than twenty-three. He had a feeling that, like himself, Vin had experienced more loss, loneliness, abuse and neglect in his short life than many people of far advanced years. Standing up when he saw Vin's face crumple in distress, he paced a few steps towards him with cat-like grace and stealth before stopping again, unsure if his interference would be welcomed or not.

In his profession, it was imperative to be an excellent judge of character and Ezra was one of the best in his profession. He'd studied his new associates and ascertained their personality traits within an hour of meeting them. Vin was trustworthy, loyal, honest and shy, and he seemed to accept others as they were, but he was also someone that Ezra wouldn't want to cross. His skill with weapons and tracking abilities were outstanding and the way he could almost read a person's very thoughts was uncanny. Truthfully, Ezra found it somewhat unsettling to be around someone who could read him as well as he could read others.

Despite their very obvious differences, Ezra found that he felt strongly compelled to befriend the unkempt tracker and protect him. Snorting aloud at the thought that the deadly young man needed his protection, Ezra acknowledged that there was a sort of melancholic vulnerability to Vin Tanner. It was the same sort of quality held by hurt children and animals; a quality that never failed to make Ezra leap to their defence. Running his thumb over his lower lip again, Ezra tilted his head slightly and tried to decide if Vin was more like a bullied child or a hurt animal. There was something about him that called to the gambler, making him want to gather him up and shield him from the harshness of the world. He imagined that it was how people felt about younger siblings, but never having had any he wasn't sure. Staring down at the tracker wistfully, he acknowledged the deeply buried desire for a brother, if only to himself.

Spinning on his heel, Ezra shook his head at his own foolishness and determined to return to his bedroll where he would resume his watch. Chuckling silently, he imagined the look of affronted outrage on the tracker's face if he found himself being cuddled by Ezra in a fit of mother henning. Vin had been uncomfortable enough when ensnared in an affectionate bear hug by Josiah the other day. Just as Ezra neared his blankets, he heard Vin's voice, low and desolate, murmur, "No more…Ain't right…"

His resolve cracked when he heard the despair in the rasping whisper and Ezra moved swiftly and silently to Vin's side, prudently moving the tracker's Mare's Leg further out of reach, then called softly, "Mr Tanner. Wake up. You're dreaming."

Vin's expression creased further in distress and he tried to shuffle away from the man kneeling next to him, mumbling, "No more, mister… Stop… Please… Cain't take no more."

Frowning, Ezra was dismayed to see a tear squeeze from the corner of the tracker's eye and roll down into his shaggy hair. Determined to wake him and remove him from the nightmare he was trapped in, Ezra placed his hand on Vin's shoulder and squeezed it gently, urging him to wake. Moving a little closer, he hesitantly laid his other hand on the younger man's head and stroked his hair back from his face.

Suddenly, blue eyes flew open and two hands lashed out to push Ezra away. Flailing, the gambler fell backwards, landing on his rump in the dust with his hands held out in a gesture of innocence.

"Easy, Mr Tanner, easy. No threat here."

Still frightened by his nightmare and flustered by the gambler's proximity, Vin felt for his gun as he growled, "What were ya doing? Why're you so close ta me? Where's my damn gun?"

Cautiously watching the snarling tracker, Ezra nudged the Mare's Leg closer to him with his foot, saying soothingly, "Your gun's right here. I'm sorry to startle you, Mr Tanner, but your somnolence seemed to be visited by Phobetor. I was merely trying to wrest you from the grips of nightmare."

Mortified to have his nightmare witnessed, whilst secretly wishing for the human comfort he knew from experience that he couldn't expect, Vin retreated behind a wall of gruff bluster. Scrambling out of his blankets, he muttered angrily, "Man cain't even get any shut-eye without some busybody poking their noses into yer business. Pawing over a man when he's sleeping ain't right, ain't right at all. Didn't come on this trip to be no toy for yer to pet. Just you keep to yer side of the fire, Standish. I don't want none of yer tricks…"

Ezra stood and watched in amazement as the normally taciturn man started babbling like JD. Noting the slumped shoulders, the hitch to the tracker's breathing when he stopped talking and the way he wiped swiftly at his face as he determinedly kept his back to the fire, Ezra murmured, "It's alright, Mr Tanner. We all have demons from our past that sneak into our dreams. You've nothing at all to be ashamed of…"

Misunderstanding the soft words and assuming that the gambler knew what his dream had been about, Vin whirled around and stalked over to stand toe to toe with the southerner, snarling, "Ain't ashamed o' nothing. Got no reason to be. Weren't like I could help it. Never asked for it... I didn't! Weren't a way to st-stop 'em... I begged 'em ter stop, but they jest kept at it... I dunno why they all... Maybe it is m-me l-like they all s-said..."

Trailing off as his voice broke, Vin broke eye contact and stood with his head down, his long hair obscuring his face.

Going on pure instinct, Ezra reached out and pulled the clearly upset younger man to him in a loose hug. Tightening his arms a little when Vin started to struggle, Ezra soothed, "Easy, Vin. No tricks. Just a little friendly kindness. Nothing more. Shhh now. I won't hurt you. I'll never hurt you."

After a token struggle inspired more from surprise than fear or anger, Vin relaxed gratefully into his friend's embrace, resting his head on the slightly shorter man's shoulder. Unlike the others, Vin had always trusted the charming southerner. Not with his money, of course; he wasn't stupid. But he'd seen the way Ezra had with children and his horse, plus any other animal he happened upon. Hell, even his ornery horse, Peso, liked Ezra enough not to take a bite out of him. Vin knew that children and animals saw to the heart of a person and would never have trusted the suave southerner if he didn't have a good soul.

Besides that, Vin had been the recipient of several anonymous gifts lately that he was sure were from the man currently sheltering him. The first had been a new bar of soap, wrapped in paper and left just inside his wagon. He'd looked around, suspecting a prank, but there'd been no-one in sight. Cautiously unwrapping the parcel, he'd found the soap and hesitantly sniffed it. Unlike the harsh lye soap they'd used on him in the foster homes and orphanages, this soap had a mild fresh scent to it. When he'd next been in Mrs Potter's store, he'd found the soap amongst her merchandise and asked her what made it smell so good. She told him that it was fragranced with sage, sweetgrass and cedar and that it had been made by someone who'd come all the way from England. Mrs Potter had then gestured to the next box and told Vin that Ezra was fond of the soap made with goat's milk and scented with sandlewood. She'd giggled and whispered from behind her hand, "That's why his hands are always so soft and his skin looks so fine. It's the goat's milk."

Puzzled by the intention behind the gift, he'd sniffed himself and wondered if the other's shared the gambler's opinion that he was on the rank side of acceptable. He started to pay attention to the others and noted that they all seemed to indulge in a weekly visit to the bathhouse. Ritual cleanliness wasn't something that Vin was used to, having developed an aversion to lye soap in his formative years. Whilst living amongst the people and later when on his own, he'd bathed in creeks and used soapnuts when he had them and a handful of sand when he didn't. Urged on by his curiosity and the fact that he was the proud owner of his own bar of fancy smelling soap, he'd paid his nickel for a tub of hot water and discovered the joy of a long, hot soak. The ease a hot tub brought to his oft times fractious back was an added benefit above and beyond cleanliness. After that, he made the same weekly trek to the bathhouse as the others, but at a time when he knew there wouldn't be anyone else there. He didn't want to listen to Buck and JD teasing him about his fancy soap, or anything else they may decide to rib him about. It was with a sense of relief that he noticed people weren't quite so quick to move away from him now, easing the sense of isolation that had plagued him for years.

Hesitantly, he shyly brought his arms up to return Ezra's hug, feeling infinitely soothed by the honeyed southern accent of the murmured words of comfort. Even as his tears continued, his thoughts turned to the second anonymous gift which had been a pair of new long johns. This gift had appeared in the same fashion, wrapped in paper and left just inside his wagon. It was this offering that had convinced him that Ezra was his anonymous benefactor, as he'd seen the appalled look on the southerner's face when he'd seen the state of the Texan's only drawers.

All seven of them had been to Nettie Wells place, working hard on some chores that she needed help doing. Well, Ezra had been supervising from the shade whilst the other six worked hard. Then on the way home, they'd gone to the watering hole they used for fishing and swimming where the six hard workers had stripped off to go swimming and cool off. Vin had originally thought the look on the southerner's face was due to a gentleman's distaste for skinny dipping, but now he knew it was because of the threadbare state of his drawers. The others had all taken to joshing him about them and he'd blushed bright red as he'd defensively lied and told them they were his lucky drawers. That damned Larabee had smirked and drawled that they were lucky alright; lucky they still covered his ass.

His throat had tightened a bit when they all started laughing at him, the memories of times past where the laughter hadn't been so friendly making his eyes sting. When he'd glared around at them, he noted that the gambler wasn't laughing, in fact he'd see another emotion fly through old Ez's eyes whilst the others were teasing him. He hadn't been able to place it at the time, but afterwards he recognised it as anger. Ez had been angry at the others for teasing him.

At first he'd been insulted to have another man buying him such personal items, but then he'd calmed down and reconsidered. After all, Ezra hadn't made a song and dance about it, which he could have done. Instead, he'd quietly provided Vin with something that the gambler thought a friend needed and wouldn't or couldn't buy for himself. Truth be told, most of Vin's money found it's way into the hands of people he considered less fortunate than himself, so he never had the spare money when it came to things like clothes.

After a long ride on patrol and much pondering after receiving the long johns, Vin had decided that Ezra was trying to be a friend in the only way he knew. Money and presents were all the gambler seemed to appreciate, so maybe he would just take the gifts in the spirit they were meant. Vin knew he wasn't civilised and didn't know how to live amongst those who were, so he accepted the gentle guidance from a man he admitted to being his superior in this matter. He just wished there was something he could do to return the favour.

The third and latest gift had been something that made him grin every time he thought on it. Unwrapping the paper, he'd found a box with a mixture of hard candies in it from Mrs Potter's store. There was nothing to learn from this gift, no comment on his state of being, just a simple gift to bring pleasure. Unused to receiving anything from anyone unless there was an ulterior motive, the tracker had impulsively hugged the box to his chest and sniffed back the unexpected tears of joy. Carefully selecting a piece and shoving it into his mouth eagerly, he'd hidden the rest amongst his meagre possessions. It had been this latest gift that had prompted him to go with Ezra when he'd been sent to the ranch, figuring that he'd find a way to thank him on the way there or back.

Instead, he found himself in his friend's arms, sobbing like a baby. The damn nightmares had been getting more frequent, as they always did around this time of the year, and he was just too tired to hold it back anymore. Leaning against the solid body of his friend, Vin grabbed handfuls of the gambler's red jacket and held on desperately as his knees gave out. Lowered to the southerner's bedroll, he shuffled until he was practically sitting in Ezra's lap, desperate to maintain the comforting contact. He was dimly aware of being grateful that he was with Ezra and not one of the others. As close as the connection was between him and Chris, he didn't think the gunslinger was the cuddling sort. Buck was more of a hugger, as was Josiah but he didn't want to lose face with either of them. He felt that he had a certain reputation to protect with the other five, but he'd somehow sensed a kindred spirit in Ezra, knowing innately that he'd understand. He felt an odd kinship with Ez, like the southerner may just have walked through the same fires of hell that he had.

Ezra was surprised when the fiercely independent tracker allowed the embrace. He thought he may be on the receiving end of a fist for his presumption, but instead Vin clung to him as though his life depended on it. Adjusting his own hold to hopefully make Vin feel more secure, Ezra kept up a stream of soothing words and noises as he rubbed small circles over the tense, buckskin clad shoulders that shuddered under his hand.

As the storm of emotion calmed within him, Vin contemplated releasing his hold but knew in his heart that he wasn't ready to leave the sanctuary that he'd found. It didn't seem like Ezra urgently wanted to be released either. Exhausted by the outpouring, he turned into the gambler's neck and burrowed his hot face into the cooler skin of his friend, muttering, "Sorry, Ez. Gotcha purty jacket all damp."

Smiling at the return of Vin's humour, as well as the childlike way his friend was hiding his face, Ezra continued rubbing his back as he replied soothingly, "I assure you, my friend, this jacket has known much worse indignities than some cleansing tears."

Feeling a little self-conscious now that the tears had passed, Vin decided he should let go of the gambler. Yup. Any minute now, he thought, he would let go. Soaking up the comfort of being held for just a few more moments, he tried to memorise every sensation for future hard times when he was once again alone - the warmth of Ezra's body, the strength in his arms, the whisper of the gambler's breath across his cheek, the smell of cologne, whiskey, soap and hair oil, the way his muscles relaxed under each sweep of the southerner's hand, the way the smooth, dulcet voice eased the ache in his chest and the way the infinite tenderness he felt coming from his friend soothed the pain in his soul. Biting his lip as more tears sprang to his eyes, he realised that he felt safe, truly safe as he hadn't since he was a sprout. This damn infuriating peacock of a man was protecting him from his pain. Pain and loneliness that he'd felt for so long that he'd accepted it as normal.

Pressing his face further into Ezra's neck and tightening his hold, Vin muttered, "Dammit, Ez. How d'ya do that?"

Puzzled, Ezra queried, "Do what, Vin?"

"Should be awkward, cuddled up ter ya like I's a button when I's a man growed, but..." Vin paused, moving his face back and slumping a little more onto the southerner, shifting his hips and trying to ease the growing pain in his crooked back. He sighed in relief, as the hand rubbing his shoulders moved down to rub the offending cramp.

"But..." prompted Ezra, curious as to why the fiercely independent man was still pressing close to him and showing no signs of moving away. He'd felt the lean body shift in his arms and moved his hand until he felt tensed muscles where he resumed his massage. He grinned at the sound the younger man made as his sore back was attended. It hadn't escaped the canny gambler's notice that his friend suffered from recurring back pain.

"God, Ez. Who knew yer had such strength in them lily white paws o' yers," moaned Vin, giving himself over to the pleasure of having his back pain eased before remembering his previous train of thought. "I'd fergotten what is was like."

Raising an eyebrow in an unseen question, the gambler waited in silence, digging his fingers into tense muscles until he felt them give and then moving onto the next source of pain.

Taking a deep breath and a firmer handful of the gambler's jacket, Vin took a chance and blurted, "Reckon I ain't been held close like this since I's a littlun. Seems it oughta be uncomfortable, two fellas cuddlin'. But ya got a gentle way 'bout ya, Ez. I's seen it when yer been helping Nate when one o' us was hurt or ailin'. And when yer with kids or critters. They can tell, ya know. When someone's got a good heart."

Unable to speak past the lump in his throat, Ezra settled for putting his hand on the back of his friend's head and giving him a little squeeze with his other arm.

Vin peeked up through his lashes and chuckled at the blushing southerner, then yawned abruptly and nestled his head more comfortably on the red clad shoulder. He smiled sleepily when he felt his hair being stroked rhythmically, murmuring, "S'nice."

Stirring after a few minutes, Vin remembered wanting to thank Ezra, so yawned again and murmured, "I want ta thank yer fer the stuff ya left me too, Ez. The soap 'n drawers 'n candy. I ain't had many things given ter me outta kindness with nuthin' expected back in ma life. Means a lot ter me, Ez. A whole lot. More'n I got words fer."

"Hush now, Vin. We'll talk in the morning. You need to sleep now," crooned the gambler, smiling as the tracker's twang became more pronounced with weariness and rocking the man he now acknowledged in his heart as a brother. He started to hum a lullaby that he dimly remembered one of the few kind childhood carers singing to him, trying to lull the exhausted Texan into some much needed healing sleep.

Feeling the tracker getting heavier in his arms as he relaxed into sleep, Ezra smiled fondly and continued running his fingers through the long, silky strands of the tracker's unruly hair. He should have known that the astute young man would figure out who'd been leaving the surprises. He'd felt relieved that Vin wasn't offended by them and slightly saddened that no-one had seen fit to gift him with anything before.

Barely aware, Vin felt the vibration of his friend's humming before he heard the sound. That combined with the slight rocking motion chased him into sleep, feeling safe and secure for the first time in a very long time.

Arms aching from the now dead weight, Ezra was now faced with the dilemma a what to do with his sleeping friend. He knew that if he were to lay him down, the nightmares would once again take hold, but he was struggling to hold onto him. Although Vin was a slight man, he was all muscle and quite heavy when unconscious or asleep. Shuffling back a little, Ezra managed to lie them both down on his blankets. Fortunately, it was a warm night so a covering blanket wasn't necessary. Vin stirred a little during the manoeuvre but soon settled with a sigh, after snuggling further into Ezra's arms, ending up with his head tucked up under his friend's chin. Awkwardly reaching over to remove his Remington, Ezra put it on the ground at his side, silently vowing to protect Vin from nightmares and intruders for the rest of the night.


End file.
